


Thrall

by acrimsondaisy



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrimsondaisy/pseuds/acrimsondaisy
Summary: Inside her canvas, Mary waits.
Kudos: 6





	Thrall

When was the first time she opened her eyes?

Mary could not place the moment in time – if such a thing as time even existed in a place like this. To a child like her... what difference did it make? Everything that surrounded her was a product of pure and undiluted creativity and passion, without a limit set – including herself. Which was a good thing! Right?

That was the whole point of childhood, wasn't it? To embrace the whimsy and the joy and the magic of it. The wondrous impossible miracle of growing up, of knowing she would never be grown, even if she wanted to be.

Did she want to grow up?

Sometimes when Mary used her eyes, she could remember how it felt. That first brushstroke on her canvas.

But that wasn't exactly right, was it? Paintings were complex beings. It was never so easy as only paint and brushwork, was it now?

He had started by priming the canvas. This was a process that had to be done evenly and with great care, or so she had been told. If you missed a spot, the whole image might be distorted, bent out of shape. It will soak up the paint, greedily and with reckless abandon, luring it away from its proper spot, in the world above.

Perhaps that was what had gone wrong with her. Was it distraction, apathy, or intentional cruelty? Whatever it was, the effect was the same – Mary was trapped inside its cage.

The girl wondered how many missing spots had been on her own painting, soaking her up.

If a painting hangs in a gallery, but nobody comes to behold it, what happens with the girl trapped inside of it?

On paper, her life was wonderful and she was just as her creator had intended. Inside the canvas, everything was perfect, peaceful. How could she feel caged by the very thing that had wished her into existence, creating life where there had been only paint. Hopes and dreams where before had only been a blank canvas?

How could she ever wish for more?

Why couldn't it be enough?

Here she had it all. Limitless creativity. Eternal childhood and youth. All power that she could access.

But oil paints transformed over time, changed their colors, tightened their texture. Her creator may have granted Mary immortality, but it was a half-life, a vampire's curse. Only one step away from insanity, from despair, with nobody beside her to share her misery. Nobody to give meaning to her toys.

Still, she was just a child.

And though in theory, she could do whatever she wanted, Mary found herself in waiting.

Waiting for someone to come. For someone to free her.

Wishing she could one day, see the sun, even if it might burn her.


End file.
